Winter 1978 – Quickening the Malady


The Necrojack’s voice was like sand in the wind; dry and light but with a sting to it. He said, “Calling it cancer is metaphorically useful. It is a disease and it is spreading. One can see the effects on the landscape. The trees are twisting into wrongness and the animal do not venture long in the area.”

I said, “My father and I once encountered such a thing. Rooting it out will be difficult.”

He nodded. “So I would have guessed. But you misunderstand me. I do not wish to kill it. I wish to move it to a place where it can grow.”